


Black Water

by sad_goomy



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mermaid, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Lillie is mentioned but doesn't actually make an appearance, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, hope you like your mermaids a little monstrous, lonashipping, mahinashipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_goomy/pseuds/sad_goomy
Summary: Gladion has never believed in mermaids, never believed in the folktales and fisherman's stories of deadly sirens with mouths of fangs and razor-sharp claws.Not until there's one staring back at him on the ship.





	1. Catch

 

In all his years on Guzma's crew, Gladion has never had to admit that one of the pirate captain's idiotic plans actually worked. 

Not until there's a mermaid staring right at him. 

She's a small creature with a pale torso and a long, dark tail speckled with white and gray. Her gills move with every breath around her neck and ribcage, and her short black hair floats around her face of sharp angles. It's her eyes, though, that Gladion keeps coming back to, mystified by the lack of pupil or cornea and yet how expressive the gray sclera is. 

He tries to remember how to breathe, unable to take his eyes off the creature. "How did you..." 

"Set a trap," Plumeria explains with a smirk, Guzma too busy laughing at Gladion's stunned face. The first mate's gaze goes to the mermaid as she swims in the tank of water, desperately trying to find an escape, pounding her webbed fists against the glass every so often. "Caught her as she was trying to drown the crewmember we used as bait." Plumeria walks forward, giving the glass a few taps with a chiding smile. "She's not very nice." 

The mermaid pauses, turning with a vicious show of pointed fangs as she swims forward and slams her palms against the tank, startling the trio. 

 _Says the filthy pirate._  

Gladion cringes, fingers going to his temple as the noise reverberates in his head. There's no doubt it's a voice, melodic but roughened, and it must be coming from the creature, but it's inside his very mind. Plumeria groans as well. "I wish this thing could just talk." 

 _I wish you were dead._  

The gray eyes are narrowed to slits, staring each of them down in turn. Guzma lets out a cackle, stepping closer to the glass. "Feisty, huh? I might be a little scared, if it weren't for, ya know..." He knocks against the glass with his knuckles, finishing his point with a smirk as the mermaid backs off, swimming as far back into the tank as she can. A low growl rolls through Gladion's head, and it feels like a buzzing sensation, or like a build-up of electricity in a cloud right before a lightning strike. 

If Guzma hears it, too, he ignores it, instead turning to look at Gladion with a spark in his eyes that sends his stomach dropping. "I was thinking of throwing you overboard for all your insubordination, but catching this little fish got me in a good mood." He leans down, close enough that Gladion can see the flash of gold in his mouth as he mutters, "So instead, you're gonna be the one keeping an eye on her while we make the journey to drop her off to the buyer." 

He looks from the pirate captain to the tank, the mermaid deciding to drop her glare from them to take in the backroom of the ship that she's being kept in, swimming from side to side to catch every last detail. He raises a brow as he turns back to the captain. "Looks pretty trapped to me." 

Guzma sneers. " _Don't_  underestimate her." Before Gladion can make another snide comment, he shoves something into the young man's chest; Gladion looks down to see that it's a pistol. When he looks back up to the captain, about to ask, Guzma answers with a smirk. "If she gets the chance to kill you, she will. So don't let that happen." 

Without another word, he climbs up the ladder, Plumeria following suit and tossing Gladion a smirk over her shoulder. "Good luck." 

And then the trapdoor swings shut once more and it's just him and the mermaid. 

 

* * *

 

 

The first few hours are silent, to the point that Gladion sits on the ground across from the tank, his back against a wooden pillar and the pistol at his side, and dozes off for a bit. 

He's awoken by a thud. 

An agitated groan, like a creaking wood deck of a ship, rings between his ears. He watches as the mermaid swims as far back as she can in the tank, and then shoots forward, slamming her body against the glass, only to rub at her shoulder and see nothing happen. 

She tries it another three times, and Gladion isn't sure if he's amused or just saddened by the display. "It's not going to work." 

The mermaid looks up at him, and a shiver runs through his spine – it feels like looking into the eye of a hurricane and knowing the destruction about to fall upon him.  _I'm stronger than all of your miserable crew put together._  

"Maybe," he concedes with a shrug. "But that tank is indestructible." 

She hisses, and it stings against his forehead; he can see why Guzma decided to shove this job onto him. Then his mind is silent once more and she retreats into a corner of the tank, growing still as she keeps her eyes on him. 

 

* * *

 

 

He's ready to write off Guzma's warnings and Plumeria's story after the first day. Since she's stopped trying to break the glass, the mermaid seemed intent instead on resting and remaining wary, watching Gladion and surveying the room in silence. 

Then comes feeding time. 

A crew member climbs down the ladder with a bucket that she shoves into Gladion's arms before leaving in a hurry, throwing worried glances over her shoulder at the mermaid that lurks in the tank. Gladion looks down to see the bucket full of water and fish that swim in small circles. His eyes slowly go to the tank, the mermaid swimming slightly closer in curiosity. 

"You're a carnivore, then?" 

Her lips twitch into something that he swears is a smirk. 

 _Why do you think I was trying to_ _drown_ _one of your_ _crew_ _?_  

He swallows the lump that's formed in his throat and nears the tank, stepping onto the small stool in front of it and turning the bucket over. The water splashes and the fish flop further into the tank, and just as Gladion steps back he can see her scratch at her prey with claw-like hands, tearing them to pieces with fangs. 

She settles back into her corner, satisfied with her meal and watching him as she licks her lips. 

Gladion makes a mental note to keep her well-fed. 

 

* * *

 

 

By the fifth day he's bored out of his mind, and it seems she is, too. 

The journey from Kanto to Alola is a long one and being stuck below deck is less than ideal for Gladion. He's lucky Plumeria convinced Guzma to give him the occasional break to stretch his legs, but the hours upon hours he has to spend staring at a tank of water is numbing his mind. As intrigued as he might be by the mermaid, there's only so long he can watch her in silence as she swims in circles, occasionally tapping against the glass experimentally. 

Her face seems less etched in fury today, and more in annoyance and boredom. She's not quite resigned to her situation, as she still tries to slam her body against the glass every once in a while, but it's clear that the reality of being trapped is beginning to settle in. 

Gladion lights the last of the lanterns in the backroom, blowing out the match and tossing it aside before settling back on the floor against the wooden pillar across from the tank. The mermaid watches him and decides to swim all the way to the front of her tank, palms on the glass as she observes him. He stares back, a question forming in his mind. 

"What's your name?" 

She tilts her head to the side, hair drifting in the water with the movement.  _Name?_  

"What do they call you?" 

There's a strange tinkling in his head, a cross between wind and bubbles forming underwater – she's laughing, he realizes.  _You cannot pronounce it, human. Our language isn't meant for you._  

It seems reasonable enough to him, but Gladion also isn't sure if he can keep referring to her as 'the mermaid' in his mind for the next two months. "Shouldn't be too hard." 

A sequence of clicks and hums and noises he couldn't even begin to describe rattle through his head, leaving him blinking and disoriented. There's a long pause as he tries to recollect himself and figure out what she's just done, before he sees her smirk and the laughing sound is back in his head. 

 **_That_ ** _is my name._  

He can't help but let out a stunned chuckle. "You don't happen to have a nickname, do you?" 

Her brows furrow.  _How many names do you humans have?_  

"Depends on the person," he tells her. He thinks for another moment before asking, "Does your name translate to something in our language?" 

 _I am not sure._  She taps her fingers absent-mindedly against the glass, and he can feel her humming in his head. After a few moments the tapping stops and she points upwards.  _The closest you have is what you call the moon._  

"Then I'll call you Moon." 

She considers it for a moment, tilting her head from side to side.  _And they call you_ _Gladion_ _?_ He nods. She frowns.  _That is an ugly name. I will give you a nickname._  

He raises a brow. "Only fair, I guess." 

 _I'll call you Scum._  

He gets the feeling she doesn't particularly like him. 

 

* * *

 

She starts asking him more questions after that. 

Plumeria warns him that it'll be a tactic to try and get more information out of him in an attempt to escape, but he has a feeling that Moon has a different motive. 

 _Why does everyone hate you?_  

And that motive is demoralizing him at every given opportunity. 

Gladion sighs, pausing in his pacing to look at her. Her fangs bite into her lower lip, and if he can pinpoint the sensation in his head correctly, she's trying not to chuckle at his deadpan expression. Still, he decides he'll entertain her with an answer, going back to his pacing. "Because I'm not technically part of the crew." 

The laughing subsides, and she swims along the tank, keeping pace with him as he walks back and forth across the room, trying to keep his legs in use so they don't get sore.  _What are you, then?_  

"A temporary addition." The rest of the answer is a long and complicated story that he's shared with no one, and he has little interest in starting now. He pauses in his pacing to stretch his arms above his head, his back groaning in satisfaction. 

Moon watches him with a frown.  _Are you not a pirate?_  

He looks over at her with a smirk. "Would you like me better if I wasn't?" 

 _I would like you better if you freed me._  

"Then you're stuck hating me." 

Her voice leaves his head, and he watches her move back to the corner of her tank, that frown still etched on her face. 

He doesn't bother telling her that he's the wrong person to ask – how is he supposed to free her when he's just as trapped on this ship as she is? 

 

* * *

 

 

It's not his fault that he keeps falling asleep when no one else in the crew is willing to take over watching the mermaid. 

Plumeria and Guzma understandably won't take the position; they're far from reasonable, but Gladion knows they're the closest thing this crew has to stability, and if one of them were to leave their post for more than five minutes, he's sure the ship would go up in flames. 

The other crewmembers simply refuse. He snaps at them all that it's not that hard, that any one of them could do it for a few hours to allow him to properly rest, but as the days go on they refuse more and more vehemently. They insist that the mermaid is terrifying, that she's out to kill anyone in her vicinity, and anyone who volunteers to take his shift comes back pale and silent. 

It gets to the point that he grabs another pirate by the shirt, seconds away from delivering an uppercut to his jaw out of pure irritation and sleep deprivation. "For the last time, she's just in a tank and silent half the time," Gladion shouts in the man's face, not caring how much attention he draws from the rest of the crew out on the deck. "What could she  _possibly_  do that has all of you so scared?" 

The pirate struggles to free himself of Gladion's grasp as he yells back, "To hell with that! I know the mind games she plays." 

Gladion's grip on his shirt loosens, his shoulders dropping as the confusion takes over. "What are you talking about?" 

"Yue told me." Taking his chance, he grabs Gladion's wrists and shoves the young man off of him, taking a few steps back to ensure he won't get ensnared again. He goes on, explaining with wide, fervid eyes, "The creepy stuff she says, the noises in your head, when you get too close she just  _lunges_  out of the tank and - " 

"She's never done anything like that to me," Gladion cuts him off with a scoff. 

Plumeria's laugh draws both of their attention to where she stands watching, next to the wheel. She smirks down at Gladion, something mysterious flickering in her eyes as she tucks away the information. "Well what do you know? She likes our little Gladbag." 

And he's not entirely sure 'like' is the right word for it, but he gets the sinking feeling that he'll be stuck with her for the rest of the trip. 

 

* * *

 

 

To keep his sanity, he starts falling asleep in front of her. No one will take his shift at this point, not since she actually managed to bite Raoul (and the glimpse that Gladion caught of the wound had him queasy and keeping his distance from the tank for a few days). 

He manages to put up a hammock, just a stretch of sturdy fabric slung from a pillar to the wall, able to hold his weight. Still, the first night he wants to properly sleep, he finds he can't, eyes wide open and focused on the tank, watching Moon as she swims in lazy circles. 

 _What's wrong, Scum?_  

She pauses, a palm against the glass as she looks at him. He isn't embarrassed at being caught, considering his entire job is to simply stare at her, but he also knows that she won't take kindly to him admitting that he can't sleep out of fear that she'll escape and kill him. The pistol is cool and heavy against his side in the hammock. 

"Do you sleep?" He places his hands behind his head, considering all the things he doesn't know about her species. 

 _Yes, but less than humans._  Her fingers tap against the glass, and his head fills with an annoyed buzz.  _I'm also not exerting energy in this tiny tank._  

His heart clenches in guilt for a moment. It's easy for him to forget that she's a prisoner sometimes, that as much as they may whisper about her being a monster, she's still been stolen and sold and knows it. Even though he didn't directly capture her, he's not exactly helping her escape, and he forces the last of his guilty conscience to the back of his mind.  

 _You can sleep, Scum._ She grins, and even in the low light of the single lantern he keeps burning, he can see the outline of fangs.  _I won't escape._  

"How do I know that?" 

 _Because then what will I do?_ There's something in her laughter, like a lone cry of a seagull or an unanswered whale call – melancholy.  _I get out of this tank and die without water._  

It's reasonable enough for him, and his eyes go to the ceiling as he tries to let the sound of waves hitting the hull lull him to sleep. However, his mind refuses to calm, and he feels himself growing frustrated the longer he keeps staring at the ceiling of the room. Gladion shuts his eyes tight, trying to force himself to knock out, but it only seems to make things worse, and no matter how he adjusts in the hammock, he just Isn't comfortable. 

 _Do you need a_ _lullaby_ _?_  

"I'm not a child," he growls, expecting her to laugh but hearing nothing in his head. When he looks over at the tank, she simply watches him from the corner with a small frown. "Besides, don't you use songs to lure men to their deaths?" 

 _Only when I'm hungry_ _...o_ _r bored._ He opens his mouth to protest, but she silences him with a gentle rush of waves meeting the shore.  _I'm tired as well. It will help._  

He gives her a long, hard look, and tries to remember a time when she actually tried to hurt him. Coming up with nothing, he lets his body relax, though he keeps his eyes on the tank. When he remains quiet for another minute, she swims to the top of the tank, perching her arms on top of the glass and lifting her head and part of her torso above the water. Her hair clings to her forehead and cheeks, and the gills on her neck seem to shrink as the ones around her ribcage expand.  

When she opens her mouth, he swears the ethereal sound is instead coming from all around him, enveloping him in something so soft and sweet that he can't help but close his eyes and ease his way into it like a hug from an old friend. 

It's the best he's slept in years. 

 

* * *

 

 

Her questions get less antagonistic. 

It's slow, at first, but over the next week or so Gladion finds himself having actual conversations with Moon. At the very least it's better than sitting and watching her in silence.  

Their current conversation, a debate on how to use the stars to navigate, is cut off by the sound of the trapdoor being swung open. Moon stops mid-sentence, gray sclera narrowing as she retreats to the back of the tank, a low hum of a growl echoing in Gladion's mind. He turns and watches Yue descend the ladder, a bucket of live fish in one hand. 

He keeps his eyes on Gladion, his jaw clenched and a bead of sweat trailing down his temple – the fear is practically palpable. "Captain said to tell you we're halfway there, but we need to make repairs. Docking in Slateport in about a week." 

The primordial growl becomes a predatory hiss.  _If you live that long._  

Without an ounce of hesitation or second thought Yue turns and climbs up the ladder faster than humanly possible. Gladion blinks, turning to walk to the tank, being careful to keep the bucket upright as he walks. "You really do threaten them," he mumbles, mostly to himself. 

Moon slowly swims towards him, watching with hungry eyes as he steps onto the stool next to the tank.  _It's fun. You should try it._  

He tips over the bucket and looks away as she devours her meal, going to set the bucket down by the ladder. "Not really in a position to do that." With a groan he stretches his back, nearly chuckling when he remembers the look of sheer terror on Yue's face. It's odd to see how differently she treats the others, and he turns to ask her but stops himself short. She looks at him, her meal finished, and can see the question forming in his eyes. 

Gladion shakes his head. It's better not to ask, less complicated this way. 

Moon watches him take his customary seat against the pillar, her ears seeming to perk as he says, "I've never liked Slateport, but I suppose that's the only place willing to look the other way for pirates." 

She frowns, and he can hear waves lapping at a dock – it's not a sound she's made before in his mind, and he struggles to identify what it could mean. Moon chews on her bottom lip, tilting her head.  _Where are you taking me?_  

His chest tightens – why does he keep forgetting that this is temporary, that she'll be gone in a month?  

"Alola." It's the best answer he has, as Guzma and Plumeria have been tight-lipped about the actual identity of the buyer. Gladion's been curious, but any crew member who's asked for more details has received a proper verbal lashing from the captain and first mate. He doubts they'd be much more forthcoming with someone they barely consider a part of the crew. 

Her eyes widen.  _I know of it. Tha_ _t'_ _s where Sun went_ _._  

He raises a brow. "Who?" 

Moon hesitates, and water under the dock sounds off in Gladion's head. He sits up straighter, not used to seeing the mermaid with any signs of trepidation.  _Someone I once knew._  Her answers aren't usually so curt, and she seems to try and focus her gaze on anything that isn't him. A few weeks ago, he'd be content to leave it at this, but he's opened Pandora's box; if he can know her thoughts on superstitions and sunken ships, then why not glimpses of her past? 

And so he pushes, just a little, testing the waters. "Is Sun another mermaid?" 

Finally, her eyes settle back on him, searching his face. There's a moment when he's sure she'll make some sort of snarky remark, that he's overstepped and she'll fall into silence. Instead, her body relaxes, her shoulders dropping the tension they hold.  _No, he is human. A_ _merchant._  

There's something fragile about her that he hasn't noticed before (because she took the role as predator and it's hard to look past fangs and claws). He has a dangerous thought that he prefers her this way, with the air between them delicate and new, with her usual cool bravado softened. 

"How did you meet him?" 

 _You have a lot of questions._  

Gladion shrugs. "I just don't see you as the type to interact with humans. Unless it's to eat them." 

 _I almost ate him._  

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." He shares a laugh with her, and lets his body sink further against the pillar. 

Moon nods, deciding to swim to the surface of the water and pull herself up like she did when she sang him to sleep a few nights ago. Her hair clings to her face, and her torso seems to glow in the light of the lanterns, water droplets traveling down her collarbones and chest.  _He tried to capture me, so I tried to drown him. If he wasn't so skinny, I would have eaten him._ She rests her chin in her hand, looking to the porthole with glazed over sclera and a corner of her lips turned up in a lopsided smile. 

She almost looks human for a moment, and Gladion's breath hitches in his throat before he swallows. "Were you close?" 

She laughs, like a roll of thunder in the distance.  _Couldn't stand him. He was a greedy idiot._ With a grin, she looks back at the pirate.  _We cut a deal. I would help him retrieve treasure from sunken ships, and he would keep my existence secret as well as feeding me._  

"What changed?" 

She bites her lip, her voice crawling hesitantly through his mind, to the point that Gladion suspects she isn't telling the full truth.  _He heard there were more riches to be made in the spice trade in_ _Alola_ _. Before he left, he vowed to keep my existence secret._  A spark of realization alights her eyes, and they narrow a moment later as she pushes off the glass, body sliding back into the water with a splash.  _Wonder how much he sold my secret for._  

"I don't know how Guzma found you." Gladion watches her raise a brow in disbelief and explains, "Apparently he heard a rumor that there have been mermaid sightings in Kanto and just went with it." 

 _There's no need to defend him._  She settles into the corner of the tank, a wry smile on her lips.  _He can't help his greed. After all, he's human._  

Gladion frowns. "We aren't all like that." He's not entirely sure why he feels the need to prove it or why he suddenly cares what she thinks of him. 

There's something in her eyes that electrifies his nerves, a pleasant hum and gentle breeze sounding off in his mind. Her smile turns a little warmer – she's nearly human again. 

 

 _I_ _suspect you are an exception._  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moon is based on an Izu catshark, except for the fact that catsharks aren't harmful to humans. Moon is very harmful to humans in this AU.
> 
> Thanks to the lovely anon on Tumblr who mentioned a Mermaid AU! I'm only a month late on it, oops, but the second and final part to this will be out soon, hopefully before the end of the week.


	2. & Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a quick request, but over 10k words later, here we are with the second half of this AU. Thanks for your patience and hope you enjoy!

 

He's used to the nightmares – the echoing footsteps, the acrid smell – but he still wakes with a start, nearly falling out of the hammock. Cold sweat coats his brow, and he has a hand to his chest to try and calm his thundering heartbeat. His eyes are wild and frantic, still caught in the fragmented memory and trying to blink away the bright light and white marble. 

When his breathing slows, he becomes aware of the sound of water under the dock; he turns and sees Moon watching him with a frown, a hand pressed to the glass as she tries to swim as close as possible to him despite the tank. 

She's not used to the nightmares. This is the third time he's had one while sleeping in the backroom, and it's been one of his worst by far. The mermaid hesitates, ultimately deciding to say nothing as she watches him calm himself. Though he wouldn't care if any of the rest of the crew saw him in this state, he can feel a warm flush creeping up his neck under her gaze. He clears his throat, his hands still shaking as he looks to the floor. "Sorry about that." 

 _What are you apologizing for?_  

He's not entirely sure (but the look she's giving him twists his heart). "I woke you up." 

 _I was not sleeping._ Gladion frowns, but before he can open his mouth to try and say something else, some other cover up, she whispers slow and small in the back of his mind. 

 

 _Who is Lillie?_  

 

His lips fall apart and his pulse skitters to a stop. He hasn't heard anyone else say her name in nearly a year, and it sounds foreign in his ears – has it really been so long that his own sister seems like a stranger? 

She explains,  _You_ _called out the name several times._ He still can't answer her; there's something blocking his throat, and so he closes his mouth and simply breathes, wondering where he could even begin to explain. Moon watches with a frown, until the chirp of a seagull resounds in his mind and the corner of her lips quirks up into a smirk.  _You don't trust me._  

"I wouldn't say that." But then he's not sure what he  _would_  say, and the words fall flat between them. 

Her smirk grows, but there's something in her eyes that she hides by swimming to the back of the tank.  _You don't have to. The pistol at your side says it all._  

He nearly forgot that he put it in the hammock, but it sits cold and heavy against his leg. He explains with a hint of guilt, "I'm on a pirate ship. I can't afford to trust anyone." 

There's something bitter in her laugh, hardened by the years and brittle from saltwater.  _Then you are more like my kind than I thought._  

Her chuckle is infectious, though it feels hollow in his chest as he stands from the hammock. "Mermaids aren't the trusting sort?" 

 _When you are hunted for centuries, you learn to be discerning._  

She curls up in the back corner of the tank, and he realizes how small she is. Though her tail is long and powerful, she's still a rather slight creature, not meant for combat so much as hiding in the dark of the ocean, hiding from predators. Gladion walks to the pillar, and then his feet keep moving without his consent, bringing him up to the glass of the tank. Moon bristles when he puts his hand on the glass, and he realizes too late that he's acting purely on instinct and isn't sure what he's trying to convey. An apology, maybe, but for what? For her existence being threatened, for being complicit in her capture, for never quite letting that pistol out of his sight even though she's never threatened him? 

He takes a deep breath and decides on a different route entirely. "Lillie is my sister." 

Moon stares at him a moment longer and he can hear an ocean breeze slowly becoming a stronger wind. She swims closer, still small and hesitant but with a spark of curiosity in her eyes.  _You were close,_  she hums, and it buzzes from his head, down the back of his neck, and comes to rest on his shoulders. Gladion nods. His mouth goes dry, and he wonders if he should remove his hand from the glass. Maybe he should turn around, climb back into the hammock and fall asleep once more with her watching, the pistol still in his bed. 

But before he can move she's right up against the glass, and he can see the smattering of scales on her face that glitter in the light. Slow and steady as a river coming to meet the ocean, she lifts her hand and places it against the glass where his rests.  _What happened?_  

"I ran away." The guilt is a horrible hot wash of shame, and he has to close his eyes because he can't stand to look at her, to face the gaze that cuts right through him. He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to say the words that his mind has used to taunt him for years now. "Our home is...I couldn't stay. But I couldn't take her with me and risk her being hurt." When he opens his eyes, Moon is still there, floating gently in the water and listening intently. His throat is tightening up, and he suspects he won't be able to say much more soon, and so he finishes simply, "I'm going to get her out of there soon. I almost have enough saved up to take care of her." 

He's not sure what sort of answer he expects from her – how is a captive supposed to react when the person watching over her begins to reveal his raw and bruised heart? 

She presses her hand harder on the glass, brows furrowing.  _Is that why you became a pirate?_  

"More or less." He manages a lopsided smirk as he says, "Hard to find anyone else who'll hire you with no questions asked." 

The corners of her lips lift into a smile – not the smirks she loves to serve him, or the teeth-baring hiss of a threat, but something small and warm that he imagines no one else has seen before.  _I am sure you'll be reunited._  

The air is heavy but warm, and it feels comfortable as it settles against his chest and helps his heart into a steady rhythm. 

He sets the pistol on a barrel in the back corner before he goes to sleep that night. 

 

* * *

 

She grows quiet and gentle over the coming days, but in a way that feels entirely unnatural to him, entirely different than the soft moment they shared. It contorts her body, the fins on her tail becoming limp and her movements languid and heavy. The gray sclera of her eyes grows duller, and her snippy retorts come slower (if they even come at all). It's odd to see a creature so powerful, so mysterious, wither so suddenly. It almost hurts to watch. 

Moon does her best to hide it. Her fangs flash as she eats the fish thrown into the tank, but it takes longer, and her claws fumble with the scales and fins. When a crew member climbs down into the backroom, she keeps a low, threatening growl in the air, but she can't quite build it into something else, and her talk of death and hunting falls flat. 

Gladion can't help his worry, but he knows asking and confirming his fears will only drive him mad as he's unable to help her. Still, when they dock in Slateport and the others take their shore leave, he asks. 

His head fills with flotsam and soft sounds of tidepools, like the noise of something gone stagnant.  _I am not meant to be kept in a tank._  

That's obvious enough to him, but it's far from explaining why she's spent her days crumpled in the corner of the tank, lifting herself from the spot only to eat. He crouches at her eye level and finds that for once she's avoiding his gaze. "What  _exactly_  is happening?" 

 _My power comes from the ocean._  She examines her own arm, raising it to look at the webbed fingers that she moves slowly, her eyes roaming over the scales that have lost their shine.  _Without it, I will die. I'm surprised that I have_ _survived this long_ _._  

"What can I do to help?" The words fly out of his mouth before he can think, and his hands and feet itch to move, to do  _something_. 

Her head rolls to look at him, a wry smile revealing a few fangs in the corner of her mouth.  _The one thing you won't do._  

Her freedom (and lack thereof) remains a touchy subject, but whereas a month ago Gladion might have shrugged her off, now he straightens at the mention of it, a sour taste in his mouth. He can't afford to stew in it, not when he's done so almost every night as he falls asleep, and certainly not now when she looks fragile enough for a current to break her apart.  

"I can talk to Guzma," he tells her, "We can figure something out." 

And when she looks at him like a lamb sent to slaughter, his heart drops through the floor. 

 

* * *

 

She doesn't get better, but not for lack of trying on Gladion's part. 

He manages to convince Guzma to cut their repairs short, the entire crew grumbling as their time to relax in Slateport goes from a week to a few days, the rest of the journey to Alola now a race against time. Her meal portions are doubled but it does little besides take her longer to eat. At one point he wonders if switching out water in the tank for water from the ocean as they sail will help, but Moon only laughs half-heartedly and tell him it's not the same – it's not the water, it's the sea itself and its spirit that she needs. 

His days are filled with anxious pacing and constantly trying to find ways to save her, to the point that it catches Plumeria's attention. 

She teases him for it at first, with the beginning of a frown etched into the corner of her lips. When he's above deck to get fresh air, she chuckles, "I've heard the mermaid's made you soft. You'll be easier to eat." 

He grunts and ignores her and his attempts to help Moon only grow more furtive, his arguments with Guzma and the crew growing more explosive. Plumeria watches the entire time from a distance, observing and frowning and realizing something incredibly dangerous. 

She finds him a few days later at night above deck. Noting that the captain is nowhere in sight and most of the crew is below deck, she takes her chance. 

"Can't sleep?" 

Gladion jumps at the voice, his eyes going from the dark ocean to the first mate that stops next to him, leaning against the wood railing and regarding him with a raised brow. He scowls, running a hand through his hair as he tries to shake off the fog that his mind has entered.  _Of course_ _I can't sleep_ , he wants to scream; how can anyone sleep when they're all letting someone die on their ship? 

"Something like that," he mumbles, not meeting her eyes. 

Plumeria nods, her piercing gaze cutting right through him, through the half-truths he tells everyone (even himself). "The mermaid?" 

He bristles, something in her tone stirring something defensive in his spirit. "Just not tired." But it's not much of an argument and he fidgets as he realizes that he's been caught in her trap. 

They stand in silence, looking out at the inky blackness of the ocean that melts into the explosion of constellations in the night sky. His fingers fidget, but he knows if he runs now it'll only look more suspicious, and though he doesn't give her nearly enough credit, Gladion is well aware of just how observant Plumeria really is. 

She considers her next words carefully; then she drops all pretense and instead bluntly concludes, "You're in love with her." 

His first instinct is to argue. He turns to her with wide eyes and a mouth open and ready to claim that she's ridiculous, to laugh at the accusation. But Plumeria holds up a hand to silence him, knowing there isn't a single thing he could say that would convince her otherwise. "I didn't come here to debate you." She lowers her hand, watching his expression morph into confusion as hers takes on a shade of concern. "I'm warning you. You're starting to make yourself obvious. And Guzma's going to start getting annoyed." 

"What do I care?" 

"If you care about your life or the mermaid's, then you should." He scowls at her, but listens as Plumeria sighs, "You think you've seen him upset before, but you really haven't. This, though...this will get him  _angry_." She watches as his eyes go back to trying to find the line where the night meets the water, a furrow in his brow.  

Realizing she's waiting, searching his face for signs that he's actually heeding her warning, Gladion simply mutters, "Noted." The captain's never scared him, and he's never seen Plumeria as the guidance that the rest of the crew seems to. 

She knows this, and places a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her; he's about to protest and shrug her off when he sees the hardened look in her eyes, sharp enough to cut him to his core. 

"The mermaid isn't the only one who will kill you."

 

* * *

 

Plumeria promises to help, but his end of the bargain is to keep quiet, stay appeased until they reach Alola. The crew is already unsettled enough, and any more pushing and shoving from Gladion won't just rock the boat but sink them completely. 

Then the collapse happens. 

It's late one night a week later, and Gladion tosses and turns in his hammock – if he couldn't sleep before, now he can't even imagine why he would want to. Guzma is a threat and Moon is dying and he's trapped, utterly trapped and just trying to stay afloat and keep her alive. It's been too long since he's had to worry about someone else's survival, since he truly cared about anyone else on this forsaken ship, and now his mind races at the opportunity, his heart overworking itself at every moment. 

Moon watches him from her spot in the tank, curled up in the corner and cradling herself. She sleeps even less now, but she's also never truly awake. The last few days, there have been times when she seems to barely hear him, and her voice sounds soft and far away in his mind. Now it's a gentle whisper, a fog rolling over a bay.  _You need to rest._  

"I'm fine." His fight-or-flight is activated and he needs to lash out, wants to snap that she's in no position to worry about him when she can barely keep herself up. When he looks at her, his throat closes up and his stomach turns at the sheer concern that lights her eyes, even with the weak smile on the corner of her lips. 

She swims, painfully slow, to the front of the tank.  _I can sing._  

It's been weeks since she last sang for him, and he suspects that it won't nearly be as easy or nonchalant as she's trying to make it seem. Gladion sits up in his hammock, nearly getting up to try and stop her as he argues, "Really, it's fine." 

But she won't have it, and her fingers grasp the top of the tank, and he can see how her arms strain to lift her body out of the water. He stands, taking a few steps forward and raising an arm to stop her, but then she has one elbow up and her brow furrows and - 

And she falls. 

Her body crashes back into the water with a thunderous splash, smooth and quick as an anchor dropping. Gladion watches in horror, rushing to the side of the tank and crouching down to get closer to the crumpled mess that her body lies in at the bottom of the tank. 

"Moon?" She doesn't move for a long minute and he holds his breath, hands pressed uselessly against the glass. He starts wondering what he could possibly do, if he could maybe dive into the tank to try and help, but then his head fills with the groan of old wood on the deck of a ship and she manages to push herself up onto her elbows. 

 _Perhaps...that was a bad idea._  

"Are you okay?" 

 _There's no need to -_  

Something like a cough echoes in his mind, and her body shakes, bubbles escaping the corners of her lips. Gladion frowns, sitting down next to the tank and keeping his eyes on her, watching as she leans against the glass for support, avoiding his gaze. Silence falls between them, and he struggles for anything to say that could be comforting. He settles on asking softly, "Is there anything I can do?" 

She shakes her head, finally looking at him with the ghost of a smile falling from her face, exhaustion making her grow small.  _You've done all that you can – go rest._  

But he doesn't move, and instead he sits and watches her until she falls asleep, and at some point his eyelids grow too heavy and he does the same.

 

* * *

 

Plumeria was right; Gladion's never actually seen Guzma angry. 

Not until now. 

It's only been three days since she fell, and Moon hasn't been able to swim since then. Unable to stand holding his tongue much longer, Gladion's taken to airing his grievances with the entire crew. Plumeria warned him once more, and this time he ignored it, knowing in the deepest corners of his heart that silence now would mean death for Moon. 

But the noise has drawn Guzma's attention, and it's only three days before the trapdoor is slammed open, causing Gladion to jump from his spot next to the tank and turn with wide eyes as the pirate captain descends the ladder. 

When he jumps off the last rung, feet landing with an unceremoniously loud thud, a scowl is deeply embedded in Guzma's face, and the fire in his eyes ignites at the sight of Gladion next to the tank, Moon curled up in the corner and watching with cloudy gray sclera. He stays by the ladder, but the captain's fury fills the room, suffocating and fiery hot with each breath. There's a scroll in his hand, and the iron vice grip that Guzma has on it turns his knuckles white. He takes a deep breath, and when he exhales, Gladion can nearly see the steam blowing through his nostrils. 

"I never expected much from you, least of all mutiny."  

It comes out too even, too calm and collected. Gladion feels a chill run through his body and settle in his heart, freezing it mid-beat as he holds his breath. The heels of Guzma's boots click against the wood floor as he takes slow, rolling steps towards the tank, stopping a few feet from Gladion. Now his anger is just below the surface, barely covered by his usual swagger and bravado. The smirk he wears has a dangerous edge, like a knife waiting for the first cut. 

Gladion debates what to do for a moment, assessing his options (none of which are particularly good). There's a sliver of a chance that he could get Guzma on his side if he rolls over and plays this all off as a misunderstanding, but he gets the distinct feeling that the pirate captain isn't here to negotiate. He steals a glance back at the tank, and though Moon can still barely move, her eyes are narrowed to slits and focused intently on Guzma; he can hear the roar of a wave building as it rushes towards the shore. 

If she's not going down without a fight, then neither is he. 

Still, he knows Guzma's short-fuse comes with a death sentence, and so he takes a deep breath and simply says, "It's not mutiny." 

"Then what the hell else can it be?" On instinct, Gladion opens his mouth to defend himself, but the venom in Guzma's gaze silences him. The hull seems to shrink, and somehow the captain is now only a foot from Gladion, gold and fangs flashing as he rants, "Going behind my back, disrupting my crew, trying to subtly take control over my ship." He stops, an exasperated, humorless laugh leaving him as he gestures towards the tank, eyes settling on Moon with a glare. "And for what? A  _fish!_ " 

A series of sharp whistles and clicks stab both of their minds, making Gladion and Guzma cringe. It's not often that Moon speaks in her own language around him, but the vitriol has no language barrier. She does her best to raise herself, palms against the glass, but in her deteriorating state she's less threatening and more pitiful. 

Despite the throbbing that still attacks his head, Gladion manages to grunt through grit teeth, "I'm trying to keep her alive. Isn't that what you want?" 

It's not the answer Guzma wanted, but at the very least his anger seems to boil over into frustration. "There are only two people who have any say over what happens to the fish." He unfurls the scroll in his hand, practically shoving it in Gladion's face. "That's me and the buyer, and I don't see your name listed anywhere on this contract, do  _you_?" 

Gladion grows still and quiet, Moon watching him intently with a furrow in her brow; Guzma doesn't seem to notice as he crumples the scroll once more, waiting for a response. 

"No." 

Moon frowns and Guzma grins. "So you're going to keep your mouth shut about it from now on, right?" Gladion doesn't respond right away, his eyes on the floor. With a sneer, Guzma grabs the front of his shirt, forcing him to look at him as he snarls, "Right?" 

The knuckles on Gladion's clenched fists turn white. He can feel Moon's eyes on him, and he fights the shame and embarrassment growing in the pit of his stomach. "Right." 

Guzma releases him, finally satisfied with his answer. With a final cocky grin, he turns and climbs back up the ladder, the slam of the trapdoor behind him echoing in the hull before leaving it in total silence. 

 _Gladion?_  

Her voice in his head brings him back to reality, back from the place of living nightmares that he was sent to for a moment. He turns and crouches, placing a hand on the glass with resolution as he whispers, "I'm going to get you out of here." 

Her eyes widen for a moment at this turnabout, and then she nods, placing a hand to match his on the other side of the glass. 

It's been years since he's seen that insignia, but the flash of green and gold at the bottom of the scroll is unforgettable. 

 

If his mother really is the buyer, then the only chance Moon has of survival is escape. 

 

* * *

 

Gladion tries to think of ways to let her escape over the next few days, but to no avail. He's taken to brainstorming out loud, pacing in front of the tank as he thinks. 

Moon watches him with an unfocused gaze. When he comes up with a harebrained scheme – they’ll escape in the night, he’ll carry her up the ladder, maybe Plumeria could be recruited – she smiles wistfully. Each time he turns to her with a look of desperation, and each time she only shakes her head.  _Please don’t worry yourself like this,_  she tells him, and he only frowns and goes back to pacing. 

He's too busy to notice the changes in the tide. 

But she does, and she can feel the winds picking up, can sense something at the very bottom of the water that has begun to stir the past few days as they approach Alola’s shore. 

She realizes what’s happening when she hears the pounding of footsteps above deck, the shouts of the crew muffled but urgent. An instinct buried deeply in her nerves alights, an ancient call reaching her chest, one that has raised her and looked for her since her kidnapping; the sea itself is rising. 

Gladion is halfway through a thought when she interrupts him, sitting up with a frown and a desperate plea in her eyes. 

 _You need to get off this ship._  

Her voice is a cry of seagulls, a sudden wave crashing against a boulder. He stops in his tracks, finally pulled out of his spiral as he watches her, confused. "Not without you," he insists, stepping forward and placing his hand against the glass to align with hers. 

Moon shakes her head, and there's something he's never seen before in her eyes – fear.  _I will be fine, but you won't s_ _ur_ _-_  

The crash of lightning interrupts her, a rolling wave sending Gladion stumbling backwards, hands out and searching desperately for something to steady himself. The water in the tank sloshes, and Moon's body is tossed around despite her best efforts to stay afloat. 

Shouts of crew members are drowned out by howling winds, and the rain pelting the deck above sounds like bullets hitting the hull. A pit of dread forms in Gladion's stomach as he leans against the wooden pillar, his feet still unbalanced as the ship continues to rise and dive with the waves attacking it. 

Moon forces herself back up as he runs to the ladder, climbing as her voice cries out in his mind like a wounded sea lion, urging him on to safety, to leave her. Gladion slams the trapdoor open, and he's met with the world falling apart in flames. 

The main mast has caught on fire even through the torrential downpour, struck by lightning and ready to fall. Crew scramble around the deck, a few abandoning ship while others watch helplessly as the waves continue their onslaught, entire planks of the ship cracking and falling to the merciless ocean below. Gladion turns and finds Plumeria at the helm, shouting orders before roaring thunder covers her voice. There's no sign of the captain, though he can't find half of the crew. 

Voices culminate in a single yell of panic as a wave builds to the side of the ship, dwarfing it and beginning to curl over the deck. Gladion is frozen in place, watching in awe as the world becomes water and he’s slammed down, catching himself on the ladder just before his body hits the floor, a sharp pain shooting through his side as his body hits the rungs. 

The edges of his vision begin to darken, consciousness slipping through his fingers. 

 

_Gladion!_

 

His fingers uncurl from the ladder rung, his feet settling on the wood below him before he’s sent stumbling by another wave. He catches himself as he lurches forward, managing to balance as he plants his palms firmly against the tank. “Mermaid or not, you’ll be hurt if this ship falls apart and you’re in it.” The words pierce his lungs and he cringes at the pain, blinking away tears. 

 _So_ _will you._ Her brow is set in a furrow, and the stubborn frown on her face might make him laugh in other circumstances; on board a sinking ship, it only breaks his heart. It softens for a moment, as he looks at her, the storm fading in her eyes.  _The ocean is trying to take me back. It will not show you mercy._ A somber, lonely whale call echoes in his mind, and for a moment he swears she’s crying, and the plea is so clear in her face and eyes.  _You have to leave me,_ _Gladion_ _._  

A deafening crack of thunder deafens them from above, and the shouts of the remaining crew follow soon after, cries of fire and destruction and the end of it all. 

“I’m not leaving you, Moon.” 

And she knows it, but before she can say any more, the trap door is slammed open and a flash of lightning blinds them from above. 

Gladion turns swallowing hard when Guzma drops, lumbering towards them even as the ship rolls, his steps languid and labored, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes glint with something hysterical, something inhuman and ready to attack. 

He stops, towering and anchored even as the storm rages on above. “What are you still doing here?” 

Gladion turns, pressing his back protectively against the glass. “I should be asking you the same.” 

“A captain always goes down with his ship.” Guzma spits, and the pirate and mermaid can see the litter of bruises along his body. If he’s in pain, then he’s spit it out along with a bit of blood, turning back to the two with a crooked grin. “But a pirate captain always escapes with his treasure.” 

Gladion shakes his head slowly, refusing to look away even as he struggles to remain standing. 

 _You won’t be taking me anywhere._  

Guzma's laugh is hollow yet sharp, punctuated by another crash of thunder. “Oh, but I will be.” 

“And just how do you plan to do that?” Gladion scoffs, though it’s cut short by pounding footsteps above them. 

The pistol shines in his hands as he pulls it out of the holster at his hip.  

“By any means necessary.” 

The blood is pounding in Gladion’s ears, but his body is frozen against the tank. Moon watches, torn between finding an opportunity to attack and urging the young man to run. And all the while, Guzma simply walks closer, twirling the pistol in his hand as he cackles, absolutely mad and dangerously unpredictable. 

A shot goes off. 

The bullet lodges itself in the glass, startling Moon back, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and Gladion swears he can hear her erratic beating heart. He turns with a glare to Guzma, shouting above the chaos, “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Getting my treasure.” And another shot, disturbingly close to Gladion’s head that leaves his ears ringing. He clutches them in pain, and the waves throw him off his balance, forcing him to his knees as he comes to term with a harrowing thought. 

 

This may be the moment when he dies. 

 

He glances at Guzma, watches as he lines up his next shot, the one that will finally crack the glass and free Moon, only for her to be captured once more – or worse, to be left without water, gasping desperately and crying out as her body finally gives up its fight. 

His body outpaces his thoughts and he dashes to a barrel in the back corner, cool metal against his palm as he springs in front of the tank. 

Guzma blinks, stunned for a moment before a humorless bark of laughter escapes him, settling into a threatening growl. Before him, Gladion stands on uncertain feet, shaking hands holding up the pistol and aiming for the captain’s chest. 

And for a moment, it seems the storm has stopped. 

“You don’t have the guts.” 

Gladion’s grip on the pistol tightens and he does his best to steady his aim, feeling the weight of Moon’s gaze on his back. 

“Try me.” 

 

And then, finally, the world ends in a flash. 

 

The mast falls in flames, cracking the hull as two shots go off, and Gladion clutches his shoulder just as his body is thrown and his head hits something, the world growing dark and quiet. 

Before his eyelids grow too heavy and his head becomes a lead anchor, he can feel the water all around him, and he sees a familiar form swimming towards him, gray sclera flashing and a hand reaching out to him. 

 

And then, finally, he fades. 

 

* * *

 

He wakes gently, sunlight warming his face and birds singing in the distance. 

His mind races but his body is far behind as he sits up slowly with a grunt, immediately regretting it as he clutches his side and then his shoulder, looking down his torso to see several bruises forming around a myriad of scrapes, his shoulder bandaged and sore. 

“Whoa whoa, easy there.” 

A young man is at his side, carefully helping Gladion sit up. When he’s sure the young man is comfortable, he picks up a glass of water on the bedside table, holding it out to him as he mumbles, “You managed to rest plenty, but you’re still worse for wear.” 

Gladion accepts the glass but doesn’t drink, his mouth beginning to form words even as he coughs, his throat raw and aching for relief. “Where am I?”  

“Melemele Island in Alola. You’re safe now.” 

He glances around the room, a large open space lined with beds and long windows that show a calm jungle beyond. Immediately, though, it feels empty, and he turns to the mysterious young man with a panicked expression. “Where’s Moon? Is she -” 

“She’s fine,” he assures him with a kind smile. “We forced her to leave your side for more than a minute so she could eat. Tutu went to get her when we saw you starting to wake up.” 

It calms him for a moment, long enough to take a long, grateful drink of water; however, once he sets the glass back on the table and the words settle in his mind, a thousand questions begin to form and his wide eyes are back. “But that’s not...She can’t...” 

 _She can’t walk._  

He stops himself, realizing he’s somewhere foreign with a complete stranger who he isn't sure he can trust.

But the boy sitting next to him only smiles in the silence, nodding slowly and realizing just what Gladion is trying not to say. 

“She’s a mermaid, isn’t she?” 

Before he can even think to argue, the young man holds up a hand. “We saw the marks, cousin, where her gills should be. She was unsteady on her legs, too, but she managed to drag you all the way here, screaming for help the entire time.” He laughs, sitting back in his chair. “Naked, too, so we didn’t know the first thing to make of it until we remembered the stories.” His eyes settle back on Gladion, and the pirate fidgets under the observation, wincing when he rolls his shoulder. 

“I’ve never seen it, but apparently mermaids have been known to turn human when the ocean is upset with them. Usually from saving some poor sailor that was meant to be drowned.” Their eyes meet, and Gladion feels his heart beating and warmth spreading through his chest, even as he tells himself it’s only a story. Still, the young man smiles as he mutters, “She must really care about you.” 

He bites his cheek to hide the smile at the thought. Instead, he looks up at the young man with a nod. “I’m Gladion. Thank you for saving my life.” 

“Name’s Hau. And it’s nothing, cousin.” Hau leans in with a conspiratorial wink. “I mean, if we’re being honest, I didn’t do the heavy lifting. Really, you should be thanking -” 

But Gladion’s eyes have snapped to a flurry of movement in the doorway, breath stolen from his lungs as he whispers, “Moon.” 

She lunges forward, trying her best to mind his shoulder but unable to hold herself back as she throws her arms around him and holds him tightly. Gladion winces but slowly lifts his arms to hold her, feeling her body begin to shake with relief. 

“So worried.” 

He realizes that it’s not in his head, and he pulls back to look at her, realizing all at once that while she’s exactly the same, she’s very much different. Her hair is smooth and dry, and her eyes have white sclera and storm gray irises; gone are the fangs, and where the gills used to be are faint scars along her neck. 

She shakes her head, and he can see tears forming, threatening to spill over onto tanned, freckled skin. Her voice is raspy, as if she hasn’t used it in years (and he suspects that technically, she hasn’t). “I was so worried.” 

Hau slowly stands, walking backwards as he sheepishly tells them, “I should tell the others what’s happening.” 

He closes the door behind him, but Gladion is too busy studying Moon’s face, unable to help himself as he reaches out a hand and traces the curve of her cheek. “You’re safe,” he manages to breathe, and he feels his own eyes beginning to prickle with tears. 

She nods, giving him another hug before settling in the chair that Hau has left vacant, holding his hand. His fingers are calloused and covered in cuts from the wreck, and hers are smooth and gentle and so warm, and Gladion realizes that he never imagined he would be holding her hand and even through his shock and the adrenaline, a small thrill runs through him. “Why are you...” He shakes his head, the corners of his mind still fuzzy. “What happened?” 

Moon takes a deep breath, squeezing his hand as her eyes rest on his bandaged shoulder. “You saved me. I saved you.” 

The memories come back to him in waves, still cloudy but becoming clearer: the mast falling, firing at Guzma, the bullet hitting his shoulder, the ship finally sinking as he was thrown against the mast. 

Moon saving him. 

She had every chance to leave him for dead, yet here he sits, safe thanks to her sacrifice. Hau’s words echo in his mind, and both of their eyes settle on her legs, now covered in trousers, and though she doesn’t say it, Gladion can feel her heart break at the sight. She isn’t meant for land, and because of him, she may never be able to return to the sea. 

“Happened before,” she whispers, and he’s still not used to her voice outside of his head as he watches her lips form the words. “Long time ago.” 

His brows furrow, and it’s his turn to squeeze her hand. “How did you get back?” 

She bites her lip, shrugging. “Not sure. Took a long time.” 

They sit in silence for a few moments, letting the extent of their predicament wash over them. He very nearly laughs at the absurdity, but when he looks up at her to make a wisecrack, he only finds melancholy and trepidation in her eyes. He frowns, and slowly leans forward, wrapping his arms around her, realizing it’s the one thing he’s desperately wanted to do for weeks now. 

“I’ll help you find a way back. We’ll get through this.” 

And she relaxes into his embrace, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Promise?” 

He smiles, placing a kiss at the top of her head.  

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

 


End file.
